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Before reading this story, you should
understand the weapon I imagined was an
inflatable squeaky hammer...

... She finally realized he was quite a
problem, a problem that wasn't going away.
Why did she marry him anyway? Ah, yes, the
money... of course. The poor boy, he had no
idea what she had in store for him. She was
leering at him intently. His misguided response
was a lazy, vacant smile. Oh, how she hated.... no
loathed THAT smile. She watched him like a hawk
as he walked up the stairs to the bedroom. Now
was her chance. Quietly, stealthily she ascended
the stairs after him. Peering in, she saw his back
turned to her..... perfect. He'd never see her
coming. Slowly she crept up behind him. He
turned, unexpectedly, in time to see her lunge
at him. She obviously caught him off guard, for
he fell to the bed with no resistence. Raising
the hammer she had bought just for him, she
rapped him upside his head as hard as she possibly
could. He gave one bloodcurdling shriek, then fell
into eternal silence. The new, filthy rich widow's
problem had been solved, or should I say extinguished.